Clay Foundation
by MsBBSue
Summary: I hate you. These are the words that will taunt me for the rest of my life; when I catch a glimpse of my own reflection, when I feel myself slipping into darkness, when I feel an undeserving smile pull across my thin lips—a small voice will forever whisper to me, "I hate you."


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Walking Dead series (both comic book and television), and I do not claim to own any of these characters other than my own original character. This is a story I have written and I am in no way, shape, or form making any sort of profit from it. I am poor. I might even be more so now having written this.**

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**Chapter One:**

I hate you. Those were the last words I said to her. _I hate you_ was all I could hear repeating over and over again knocking around in my cranium and pulsing through my veins as I stared down at her lifeless body. When I saw her, I didn't believe it—I didn't want to believe it. She just laid there on the ground; her body sitting there like a discarded ragdoll. She died with no one there—she died thinking the only person she had left hated her.

I hate you. These are the words that will taunt me for the rest of my life; when I catch a glimpse of my own reflection, when I feel myself slipping into darkness, when I feel an undeserving smile pull across my thin lips—a small voice will forever whisper to me, "I hate you." How could three words mean so much? How could I have said them to her? She was my friend, my protector, my mother.

I must have sat next to her body all night because when I finally had the courage to look away from her face, the sun was on the rise and birds were happily chirping to my dismay. I couldn't bring myself to stand. My body was weak—weaker than it had been in weeks. I was exhausted both physically and mentally. Perhaps that is why I did not fight when I felt the hands grip my shoulder. Maybe I had given up; maybe I just didn't see a reason to continue.

"Get up," a voice revving like a chainsaw says as a force pushes the back of my head. When I do not move, the hand pushes me again only to have me swat it away carelessly—as if it were an annoying fly tickling my skin. "Get up!" I jerk forward with my hands bracing me from the force. I can't. If it were so easy, I would have been gone long before anyone could have found me—both of the living and dead persuasion.

"Kid, come on," the voice revs. "Get up, get movin'; get on with the show."

I shake my head. What was the point? I had seen the ending already; death and reanimation only to be followed by penetration to the brain. Why prolong death when it was inevitably the only way out?

"Seriously, if you don't start movin', those things are gonna start moseyin' on through the barricade." My eyes lazily look to the makeshift fence; a cross between couches, sheet metal, cars, and whatever else the group could find in little to no time. That was our problem; everything was done too fast—an easy fix was all we had the strength to perform. Nothing was permanent—we had devolved back into our nomadic cousins. We became travelers when the world decided stagnant was no longer permissible.

"She's gone and unless you plan on joinin' her, I suggest you get your ass movin' now!" the voice revs in my ear.

"Shut up, Wayne!" I holler as I snap my face towards his and glare at the man. Suddenly, there is a bang and my eyes shoot to the gun in his hands. He shot her. I feel my eyes water.

"She wasn't dead!" I lie as I push him away.

"Boy, she was deader than a doornail," Wayne says. "You know the rule; we don't let our own turn. Why you let her marinate for so long is beyond me," he spits as I turn back to my mother. It didn't matter if he was right. I needed to sulk—I needed to mourn and grieve the way we did before. I couldn't just move on like everyone else did. This wasn't just another person—this was my mother. A scream sounds off near by and Wayne's eyes dart towards the source.

"You listen here, you li'l shit," Wayne growls. "I've seen enough of this place to know we're under a complete meltdown—the pot's on boil and my tootsies are gettin' a li'l too hot for my likin'." I make a face. Wayne had only been with us for a week; the only reason we took him in was because he said he had a military background. "Now, either come with me or become walker fodder," he says as he crouches beside me. He pushes back his shaggy hair; it was the colour one would expect to be portrayed by a dusty mahogany desk. The strands carried the strength of colour—just dulled and diluted with grey.

Wayne comes into my view as he looks down at my mother's face. He shakes his head as his dark eyes cautiously find mine. "I'm sorry, kid… she's gone." He takes a quick breath. "But I doubt she'd want you to go out this way—not when there was a chance to get away." His eyes shoot behind me and widen as a loud bang sounds. Wayne rises quickly—like an overexcited dog, he jumps and pulls at my arm. "Come on, let's go!" he hollers as he jerks me forward. "Ain't no time for this shit now!" he grunts as he pulls me to my feet.

Wayne's grip on my hand makes my fingers grow numb. He leads me through the streets until we reach the other side of our scantily made fence. As he pulls at some of the pieces of wood to make a better crossing, I turn my head over my shoulder.

People are screaming but no faces are seen. It's all moving so fast; just blurs and sudden bursts of colour. They had been sleeping; rarely did our days begin before the sun had taken its final roll over the horizon. Wayne must have needed to relieve himself—hell, maybe he was wondering why there were two people missing in our house. Whatever the reason, he was alive while others would soon turn.

"Well," Wayne snaps as his head jerks with the words. He stands on loose materials as he lowers his hand down to me. Where he wanted urgency I gave him leisure. As I bring my hand out to him slowly, he jerks me forward almost taking himself down with me. When I am stable, Wayne pushes me to the edge of the waste fence.

My feet lose themselves and just as I slip to the other side, the man's hands grip my arm tightly. "I ain't lettin' go," he reassures with a grunt. "You're okay," he says with a nod as he makes a madman's attempt at a smirk.

It was nearly a twenty foot drop to the other side. The fence itself was only eight, but the near cliff-like drop behind it made up the other twelve feet.

"Don't look down," he says as my eyes glue to his. "Just listen to me and everythin' will be all right."

I can hear his feet slide and shift in the debris as he struggles to lower me. My heart hammers in my throat as I fight to keep myself calm. "You're gonna have to find a place for your feet. Anythin' that'll be sufficient for your weight," he calls. Wayne turns his head back and as he brings his face back towards me his head shakes faintly. "Might wanna do it quickly because—," he lets out a whoop, "—they're takin' notice."

My feet hurriedly kick at the opposite side of the wall and Wayne jerks making me hit the fence. "That felt like it might be where all the support's comin' from," he grunts as I struggle for breath. "Don't hit there again," he says in a low tone. "Please," he quickly adds.

Finally, my left foot steps onto something with a little more stability than air and as I give Wayne a nod, I grip onto the wall with all my strength. It takes little to no time for the man to come down; his thin frame and jerked movements were almost meant to do this sort of thing. I turn my head as bits of wood and fabric fall overhead. As my eyes hit his, he gives that same insane smirk.

"Now—," he grunts as he shifts his weight, "—all we gotta do is get to the ground." He looks down the drop and shakes his head. "It's always easier said than done," he breaths. Wayne begins making his way down the fence as I grip the wall tighter; my veins feel as though they'll burst at any given minute while my knees threaten to give out. "I want you to stay close, but above. If you slip, I'll have a chance grabbin' you." He shakes his head. "If you're below… you're lookin' at a pretty hard fall with nothin' to soften the impact."

I take a deep breath and mimic his movements. Something about heights just made my heart vibrate and ears buzz. As my eyes look to the top, a walker takes a stiff step and begins down the drop.

"In comin'," Wayne warns and, with my body pressed tightly against the pariah fence, I feel the wind from the walker's speed against my body. After a moment of pause, Wayne lets out a concerned hum. "Hopefully he ain't still kickin' down there," he murmurs.

I take a shaky breath as we continue our descent. When we reach the end of the wall, Wayne finds a ledge and waits for me. As I come into his reach, his hands reach up; one guides my feet and the other holds my back to keep me stable. With my feet on the narrow edge, Wayne lets out a laugh.

"All right," he says with a nod. "Gotta shimmy out of here," he says with his head nodding to the right. "You're leadin' this time." My eyebrows knit as my lips part. "Don't worry, kid," he says with a smirk. "Anythin' happens and I'll be on it like white on rice. I got your back."

With my hands holding the rock wall before us and my feet shifting, I make my way to the other side. It is slow and gruelling and pathetic. Wayne's chuckles from behind remind me of that with each step I take.

"You know," I hear him say, "for the kid who decided to make his way out onto the roof, you're pretty sketchy with heights—,"

"Th-that was different," I say before letting out a gasp as my foot slips. I hug the wall for a moment before gaining back my composure.

"Not really," Wayne says.

"Yeah—," I nod my head, "—there weren't walkers … nobody was watching…" I wipe at the sweat beading on my forehead.

"I'm just sayin' it took balls to do that. Maybe if you tried to channel that moment into this it wouldn't be as hard as your makin' it out to be." I roll my eyes and Wayne lets out a scoff as if he's seen me. "I know… easier said than done."

As my feet reach the safety of grass, my legs finally give out. I fall to my knees and drop my forehead onto the ground as Wayne chuckles before he pats me on the back. "You did good," he says.

I grip at my chest as I bring my face back up. I pull at the neck of my shirt as the screams still continue on the inside. We left them there—we left them all to die. I rise and begin pulling at the barricade. A force pulls me back and I jerk away. I continue clawing at the debris even when my fingers and palms sting with pricks from hidden nails and sharp edges.

"Stop it now!" I turn my head to see Wayne glaring back at me. His nose is curled as if disgusted but his narrowed eyes soften as they settle on mine.

"They're turning," I say in a deadly whisper.

Wayne shakes his head. "There's nothin' we can do about it now—,"

"We don't let our own turn!" I throw back at him before turning back to the barricade.

I feel hands grip my shoulders before they toss me to the asphalt. I grimace at the landing and shoot my eyes up to the man. He shakes his head as he looks down at me.

"It's just you and me, kid. They ain't ours anymore," he says sternly. I shake my head and attempt to push myself up but his foot sits over my chest preventing me from doing as I wish. "I ain't jokin'," he says with a shake of his head. "When I lift my foot, you're either with me or you're on your own. By the looks of things, you ain't got much experience by your lonesome, so, if I were you, I'd choose pretty damn wisely, boy."

I look back at him with my jaw clenched and eyes burning. How could he be so cruel—they were people too, they deserved a chance to survive. I feel myself give a faint nod and suddenly the foot lifts. Suddenly, a hand extends out to me. I take it gingerly and slowly rise with the pull of the helping hand.

"My name's Clayton," I murmur.

Wayne shakes his head and gives a smug chuckle. "I don't care for names—the people don't last long enough nowadays for me to remember what they're called." He takes a few steps away from the barricade and narrows his eyes. "You with me?" he asks.

"There's not much of a choice."

The man lets out another chuckle. "All right," he says with a nod. His dark eyes narrow for a second as he waves a finger out to me. "If you pull that shit again, I won't think twice 'bout leavin' your ass behind—do you understand, _Clayton_?"

I lower my chin and watch him from below my brow. Wayne cocks his head slightly waiting for my answer. "Yes, sir," I say through gritted teeth.

"Good to know," he says before turning away.

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**I'm not too sure when this will be updated.**

**It's just something that's been in my head for a couple days now.**

**I guess if the demand is there, it'll be updated regularly, so long as the words keep coming smoothly. **

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**Reviews are much welcomed and always appreciated!**

**~MsBBSue**


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